


The Creation of Persephone

by HoneydeWinter



Category: Ancient Greek Religion & Lore, Lore Olympus (Webcomic)
Genre: Creation Myth, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-11
Updated: 2020-12-11
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:14:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28016835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HoneydeWinter/pseuds/HoneydeWinter
Summary: What is it like to have a body of poison and poppies? Where did Persephone really come from?
Relationships: Demeter & Persephone (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 4





	The Creation of Persephone

**Author's Note:**

> I'm experimenting with writing something about Persephone, so I wanted to post the first chapter here as a one-off. Hope you like it!

_This is not good enough,_ Demeter sulked. She crouched between the furrows of rich earth in her barley field, studying her creation. Despite her best efforts, the lines of barley seeds on the ground barely resembled a person, much less a goddess. Demeter huffed in frustration and scattered the barley. It was her specialty, but grain was not working. Perhaps she could try something else….

  
Demeter looked around, searching for inspiration. Rolling hills of barley and other crops spread out far to her left and right. In front of her stood a thick forest; that wouldn’t be helpful. Back the way she had come was her palatial country home near the sea. Demeter turned to stare at her villa and its surrounding gardens. Most were vegetable plots, but maybe the herb garden could be the answer. Demeter had originally balked at the idea of herbs; humanity needed food, not seasonings that served little purpose. The nymphs and her sister Hestia had convinced her to create the herb garden, telling her that there was nothing wrong with something extra.

  
“Not all things must be so practical. Some plants can be without purpose,” Hestia had stated. Demeter had begrudgingly created the garden, but maybe it represented what her creation was missing: whimsy, pleasure, joy. She was willing to try just about anything at this point. Demeter rolled her eyes and began the long walk to her garden.

  
As she walked, Demeter brushed her hands along the top of each row of barley and allowed the feathery tops to graze her fingers. The damp scent of the rich earth calmed the goddess and helped her think. Demeter loved her life in the fields, but except for the help of the nymphs, she was terribly alone. The other deities were not an option; very few of them lived on the earth, and Demeter thought most of them to be far too wild. Zeus, the king of the gods, was the wildest of them all; _the rest only follow his example,_ she thought with a chuckle. The nymphs adored Demeter, but they were far too intimidated to treat her as a friend, instead of a queen. Mortals and demigods all perished in the blink of an eye, compared to the eternal lifespan of a goddess. Demeter had decided that the best companion would be a daughter, and she was determined to create her without anyone else’s help.

  
The garden’s wooden gate creaked as Demeter pushed it open. She paused for a moment to smell the herbs, all aromatic and growing around her. Demeter picked up a large woven basket and started wandering through the garden. Oregano for luck, rosemary for remembrance, fennel for good health; _it is starting to resemble a salad,_ Demeter thought ruefully. Frustrated, she began tossing in anything pretty, or anything that she hadn’t already tried. Ranunculus, lavender, fragile cherry blossoms, hyacinths, deadly belladonna, every color of roses her garden possessed, peach blossoms, even the poisonous white oleander. Everything beautiful went in the basket, until flowers and herbs overflowed and darkness had fallen. Demeter found herself weeping as she hefted her heavy basket to a clear space in the garden, wiping fragments of herbs on her face as she swiped at her tears. She had tried this so many times, and it had never worked. But perhaps she could try one more time.

  
Starlight bathed Demeter in a silver glow as she thoughtfully laid out the shape of a small nine-year-old girl in flowers. Her cheeks were pink roses, her hair a sheet of bright red poppies, and her limbs were long sprigs of lavender. Delicate peach blossoms made up her hands. Demeter grew a skeleton of creeping nightshade from the earth to help connect the fragrant bundles into one body. The goddess continued to shape the child’s form until her basket was empty and there was nothing left to add. She stared at it; the heap of greenery was messy, fronds and tendrils frilling in every direction, but it already felt so much more alive than anything else she had tried.

  
Demeter sat back on her heels and listened to the burbling of the nearby spring before taking two small vials from her robes. “Fates, I pray this works,” she murmured to herself before uncorking the vials and sprinkling the contents on the flowery form. The Stygian water hissed as it fell onto the plants, but the nectar that followed healed any damage the water of the underworld had caused. The new body anointed, Demeter prostrated herself before it and invoked the blessings of Gaia and Chaos. As the earth turned and hours passed, Demeter continued to pray and to bless the body with her own power. It seeped out of her, excruciatingly satisfying. Using her power in this way was similar to making her crops grow, but far more draining.

  
Demeter could feel the rising sun’s warm rays on her back as the remnants of power left her body. She collapsed into the dewy grass, but before her eyes closed in sleep, she made out the dim shape of the small, sleeping girl laying beside her. She had done it. The child beside her was perfect. The girl’s long, silken hair was tangled in the grass, and the lower half of her body was still rooted to the ground. Murmured breaths whispered from rosy lips, like a kitten’s gentle purr. Demeter’s trembling hand reached out to caress the girl’s flushed cheek.

  
“Kore,” she whispered with a glowing smile. “My Kore.”


End file.
